


Brown Without Pity

by foolish_mortal



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Due South - Freeform, M/M, Matthew Brown (mentioned)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-26
Updated: 2014-07-26
Packaged: 2018-02-10 13:51:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2027448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foolish_mortal/pseuds/foolish_mortal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal first comes to Baltimore on the trail of the killers of his sister, and for reasons that don't need exploring at this juncture has remained, attached as liaison with the Lithuanian Consulate.</p><p>Deaf wolf! Winston and Detective Will Graham.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brown Without Pity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cicak](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cicak/gifts).



> A ficlet for cicak, who has been freaking out with me about a Due South Hannibal AU.

"For such a smart man, you can be really stupid," Mischa says. She's wearing a pair of smart trousers and a loose pastel blouse. Hannibal knows he's conjured it up from his last memory of her — the two of them having lunch at the little bistro close to the Academy. He wonders if she crossed that very road on her way back home on her last fateful night and thought of him. Hannibal often thinks of her, even when she isn't perched at the corner of his desk with her arms crossed.

Hannibal pushes away the paperwork and leans back in his chair. "Are you very angry with me?"

"Yes," Will snaps from across the room, Mischa echoing a moment later. "What the hell were you doing at that swimming pool alone?"

"Swimming is very beneficial to health and exercise, Will."

Will clenches his teeth. Winston lets out a reproachful woof from his place near Will's feet. "You knew Matthew Brown was still at large. You knew you fit the profile. And you still decided to leave the consulate without a police escort, without even telling me."

This, Hannibal suspects, betrays the very root of Will's anger. Will Graham is not a man that trusts easily or well. Likely, Hannibal is one of the rare few that has ever been granted the privilege of disappointing him.

Hannibal stands and makes his way to Will's desk. Bits of twine and feathers are littered across the neat stacks of reports. Will has a half-finished lure in his lap. He has a habit of making them to keep his wonderful mind occupied, an anchor at times when he's bored or overwhelmed. Detective Katz confided in him once that the number of lures in the spare drawer has decreased since Hannibal became his partner.

"I'm sorry," Hannibal says finally. "I'm not accustomed to being missed."

Across the room, Mischa stares at him with ancient eyes. They had been close once as children, but they had both received the windfall of their family's genetic inheritance, a predisposition for solitude and emotional thrift. Mischa from her teenage years had always been distant and beautiful only in the way stars could be beautiful. Ironic that her death is the very impetus that brought them together again.

Hannibal is summoned back to awareness by the touch on his forearm. Will's fingers are gentle against the bandages, sensing the incisions underneath. "The doctor says you lost a lot of blood."

"Not so much as Mr. Brown would have liked, I'm afraid."

Will nods as if affirming Hannibal's words, his lovely brain cataloging the tone underneath like individual notes on a staff. His fingers circle loosely at the knob of Hannibal's wrist. They are leaning close together. "Does it hurt?"

Warmth flows along Hannibal's arm from the point of contact. Will Graham is a symphony, Hannibal thinks. He will not be so careless as to disregard the privilege of Will's favour again. "It's more tolerable now."

Will smiles a little. Winston leaps up obediently as he pushes back his chair, the lure abandoned at the corner of the desk. "Dinner? Jack won't mind if we leave early. We can go to that little cafe you like."

His remarkable Will, Hannibal marvels. So resilient and so defiantly vulnerable. "Whatever you want, Will."

"Whatever I want," Will repeats as he pulls on his jacket. "Be careful, or I'll take you back to the bar where Beverly had the bachelorette party for ASA Bloom." Some of the distaste must show on Hannibal's face, because Will laughs. "Stay here, I'll bring the car around. Come on, Winston."

The air is a little colder in the empty bullpen. Hannibal sits at Will's desk and retrieves the unfinished lure. He finds a lean white and blue feather, a small shiny bead. Unobtrusive objects yet beautiful as a whole. Hannibal picks up the needle and loops thread around the stem, completing the knot. His wounds prickle with sudden pain, though from Will's attention to them or his subsequent departure, Hannibal can't say.

When Mischa settles next to him, her expression is wry and sad. "You are really stupid," she says.


End file.
